Faking It
by WakaLaka4life
Summary: "Sell crazy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here."
1. Chapter 1

Faking it

Places like this are always a drag. Same old shit each time. I've been to so many of these, that I'm an old pro. I could definitely write one of those fucking "For Dummies" books. "Hospital Inpatient: For Dummies by Axel."

It's been a week since I came to this one; each day is more torturous than the last. The smell, the phony nice attitude of the orderlies and psychologists, and the overall melancholy makes me what to commit a murder-suicide more than I wanted to before. The lack of decent human beings and the overwhelming amount of ghetto children with behavioral problems really get to me. I mean, I get we're at Cincinnati Children's, but damn. I thought this place was for people with actual psychological issues, not some obnoxious ADHD and petty anger.

I've only really met one reasonable dude here that isn't a total sap or a detestable problem child. His name is Demyx: A schizophrenic with persecutory delusions who had been here for 2 weeks. Now, from what I can tell, he's not faking it. I've seen some pretty sad fakers in my time, but he is definitely the real deal. You know, those little crybabies that try to kill themselves for attention, whether it is from their peers or parents. Those kids that don't want to die. They're loathsome and disgusting and deserve to be shot. They give us other _real_ crazy fucks a bad reputation.

"Do you think we'll play Jenga today or make bracelets?" Demyx asked me lackadaisically with a hint of sarcasm.

"Dunno, man. Maybe we'll weave baskets and sing Kumbaya around the artificial fireplace in the library." I said; contempt and sarcasm oozing from my lips. Demyx laughed a hearty and deep laugh that reverberated throughout the lobby in which we were sitting.

Out of the twelve people that were currently "enlisted in the cuckoo army" as we so fondly call it, only three of us were male. Demyx, this kid named Zexion, and I. I'm almost 100 percent sure Zexion is faking it. He is twelve and a half and he got drafted for trying to hang himself. Kid didn't even do it right. Used an extension cord. Says he SHs, but the scars are so insignificant and shallow they didn't even give him a sleeve. Plus, he has this really fucking scene haircut that falls in his face. Kid, you're 12 what could be so goddamn awful that you'd want to garner this kind of attention? Oh, you failed a level on Angry Birds and lost a follower on Instagram? Boohoo.

We were all sitting around the lobby outside of the library doors, some of us in chairs and some of us on the floor. We were waiting for one of those fake ass RNs to come and tell us it's time to set our goals for the day. Mine was the same as always: "Don't stab anyone with one of those shitty little golf pencils, Axel."

Of course that was in my head. If I had said that to any of the nurses, they would put me in solitary for sure. Solitary is no fun. Especially if you're manic. They sent me to the brig once and only once. It was for throwing a chair at a faker. You know, those kindergartner sized chairs full of sand so you can't throw them? Yeah, that happened. I don't regret it, she was a little shit.

The RN herded us, like the apparent sheeple we are, into the library so we could have the first group therapy of the day. We went around in our little circle and said how we slept and our goal for the day. My goal was to tell the RNs when I was feeling bad instead of keeping it inside. Corny, right? I was running out of options for cop-out goals. I had filled out all the worksheets in my folder five days ago, so that was out of the question. I had used the goal, "Participate in all group activities" at least four times now.

The day went on as usual: someone yelling at and attacking an orderly and some black chicks throwing food at one another and "talkin' smack." Nothing new here. It wasn't until just before "quiet reflection time" that my interest was piqued.

Someone new was here.

And it wasn't your normal stereotypical problem child resisting the orderlies and doctors or a kid begging his parents not to leave him. This kid seemed so apathetic, that by the look he was giving it could have been mistaken that he was doing a regular, mundane task. They brought him in on a stretcher, indicating that he had just been released from the hospital. When the paramedics let him off, I could see that he was wearing a gown, but it was so large on him that it covered everything without him exerting any effort.

They sent him into briefing and all of us into our rooms for reflection bullshit. AKA TV time. Yes, this particular hospital had TVs on the wall. There were only 3 channels, though. PBS, The Hour of Power channel, and the local cartoon channel. Of course the screen was in a glass box and you had to get up to change the channel, but hey, TV.

My roommate had left the day before. Dave. He had gotten here a day after me and left after 5 days. Accidentally OD'd on some pills, so they figured he wanted to kill himself and sent him here. I liked Dave, he wasn't a faker.

I figured they were going to put the new kid in with me because Zexion and Demyx were already roomed together, much to Demyx's dislike, so I prepared myself to assert dominance and tell the kid how it is. I hoped to the Flying Spaghetti Monster that he wasn't a faker.

I occupied myself watching some show about rocks on PBS until, low and behold, an RN knocked on my door with the new kid in tow.

This kid had the most obnoxiously styled hair I have ever seen. I don't know if it was a cowlick or if he did it on purpose, but damn did it bother me. He was a blonde to boot with these big, royal blue eyes and porcelain skin. The kid looked like a little doll and, I don't know why, but it irked me to the max.

"Axel, this is Roxas. Be nice to him." The RN Joe (that resembled Rob Lowe) explained to me.

"I'm always nice, Joe. I'm the nicest guy here." I stated with a sly smile aimed at the Roxas guy. Rob Lowe Joe looked uneasy and nervously said to me:

"I mean it, Axel. This is a safe place; we don't want a hostile environment. "

"Tell that to the problem children, not me. I'm on my best behavior. Always." I articulated with a toothy grin.

All I received was a stern look, even though I could see the doubt in his eyes. He promptly left. Guess I made him uncomfortable.

Now I was left alone with the new kid. I stood up and was immediately made aware of how short he was; he only came up to the middle of my chest. I gave him a once over and he still had that stupid, bored look on his fucking baby face He was garbed in the standard scrubs that we have to wear for the first few days. There were two sleeves on his arms instead of one, which is uncommon because the injuries are normally on the non-dominate arm.

"So, your name is Roxas, huh?"

No response. He went to sit on his bed.

"Can I call you Roxy?"

He stopped in his tracks, turned his head towards me, and gave me the most malicious glare I have ever seen. He paused briefly before saying:

"Absolutely not. Do _not_ ever call me that again." He snarled at me. His baby face turned up into a look of disgust just didn't sit right with me.

"Aww, did someone forget their nap today? You're a little cranky." I said as sardonically as I could. I was just trying to make him mad at this point. It's amusing when people get mad at me; I guess that's from too much exposure to the internet.

His face relaxed, the exact opposite of what I expected, and he said, in an even tone: "Listen, I don't like you; you don't like me, just… Leave me alone, okay? I'm not here to make friends or fight with you. I just want to get the fuck out of here."

I kind of stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. I scratched at the nicotine patch on my upper arm and sat my ass down.

I awoke to Rob Lowe Joe knocking and promptly opening our door. Well, at least he knocked. I sat up groggily and looked over at Roxas. He was sitting on the window seat looking out the little sliver of window we had. Really, could you get any more dramatic?

"Okay, time for recreational therapy, boys. Get up. Did you have a nice quiet reflection?"

"Oh, fantastic, got a nice wank in there."

RLJ looked at me appallingly. He was completely shocked and beyond words. I let out an obnoxious laugh and explained:

"I'm kidding. Please, never take me seriously. Or do, it's pretty amusing for me."

He stayed silent and left the room. I snickered to myself. Blondie walked by, gave me disapproving look along with a head nod and exited. Who the fuck does he think he is? The kid obviously has no sense of humor. He's trying too hard to be deep and mysterious like every other faker out there. I might have to tell him so.

The lobby was full of angsty teenagers trudging in from their quarters. The room was lifeless, devoid of emotion. Well, what do you really expect? The walls of the adolescent psychiatric wing were cold and unforgiving. Some shitty R&B garbage was softly playing in the background.

I sidled over to my mullet donned friend, Demyx. His eyes had a glazed over look to them. For a self-proclaimed sociopath, I felt a touch of empathy for him. I said cautiously:

"Hey, Demyx. Uh, are you alright there? You seem a little out of it."

He hesitated before responding:

"Oh, uh, yeah. They just put me on some new shit that makes me a fucking zombie. Rasputin or something."

"Ha, I think Rasputin was a Russian guy. Is it Risperdal? I took that once, best sleep I ever had. It says if you take it too long that you grow manboobs on that commercial, though."

A look of horror spread like wildfire across Demyx's face. He grabbed his chest and exclaimed:

"Are you fucking kidding me?! They did NOT tell me that when they put me on it. They just said it would stop the hallucinations. Which it did, but I'd rather be fucking crazy than have to wear a bra."

He lightly shuddered at the word bra like it was the most disgusting thing he had ever heard. I chuckled a bit at his antics. From the corner of my eye I spotted Roxas looking over at us.

He was staring at us. I have no idea how long he was staring, I hadn't even felt his gaze on me. Those repulsive puppy dog eyes didn't look as bored as they normally did. They looked… Intrigued. Not too excited, but not the regular jaded façade that he usually puts on. I was almost tempted to go talk to him, because something about him just makes me want to punch a small child, but also makes me want to be friends with him. I didn't like it. At all.

Before I had the chance to talk to the babyfaced fuck, they motioned us into the library for "recreational therapy." There was nothing recreational about it. It fucking sucked. You'd think they'd let us do something fun, like, play Guitar Hero or Foosball, but nope we were given stuff like "aroma therapy" and "draw your ideal room and describe every fucking decision you made in making it."

We all sat down, those few overachievers who got into the library first got the four nice, comfortable chairs. The rest of us got plastic chairs they pulled out of the closet. I voted to sit on the floor.

"Axel, please sit in a chair. We can't see you."

"Well, that's a crock of shit. I'm a tall, redheaded guy. You can't miss me."

She gave me a displeased, sickened look at "shit" like she had never heard that word before Well, I figured they weren't letting me out any time real soon anyways. A couple of other people in the room (mostly Demyx) giggled. She shot them a disappointed glance and continued on.

"Today, we're going to make a personal pamphlet." I let out an audible groan just to be a dramatic little shit. She shot me a fleeting look of being fed up and carried on.

"I want you to put your name on the front. Your goals and achievements on the inside. And on the last flap we're going to pass around our pamphlets and everyone is going to write what they like the most about you. "

Well, this is new. We hadn't done this at any of the other inpatient programs I had been to. I was actually kind of excited to see what lies other people had to say about me. Most of the time I don't get very good feedback, but in the hospital you're forced to be nice to people.

So, we received some markers and colored pencils (not very sharp) and started our personal pamphlets. I wrote some bullshit for goals like, "Going to college" and "graduating," then for achievements I put "First place in the talent show in 4th grade" and "The Social Studies Award in 9th grade." I don't amount to much in life, it's kinda my thing.

They made me share what I wrote and asked me what I won the talent show for.

"Eh, I sang the National Anthem. No big deal. It was really bad. My mom has a copy of it."

"Aww, I'm sure you're a lovely singer."

"If you like listening to seagull sex, maybe."

She gave me that look again. And moved on. Demyx was next and his goal was to get better and to major in music.

"Aww, you and Axel could start a band, Demyx!"

"Yeah, we'll call ourselves 'The Basket Cases.'"

"I think that's already been done!" Some girl said to me like I cared.

"Yeah, we'll do it better!" Demyx exclaimed. I laughed heartily.

"Let's move on. Roxas, what did you write?"

He was silent for a few moments before he softly spoke:

"Do I have to share?"

She hesitated before she said:

"Well, no, but I would like you to. It's good to do stuff out of your comfort zone, that's how you grow. But you don't have to…" She explained with a saddened tone to her voice. Roxas sighed.

"Well, I want to be an art therapist."

"Oh, how neat! We have an art therapist who comes here and does Rec. therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can't wait for you to meet her! She's as nice as can be!"

"I can't wait." Roxas spoke with considerably less amount of enthusiasm as her. He had that annoying, disinterested look on his face again.

Next, we passed around our pamphlets and wrote what we liked the most about each person. There were a couple of them that I wanted to write, "You are an annoying little shit," but I refrained. On Demyx's I was sincere and wrote him a big paragraph about how awesome and funny he is. He really is a cool guy, a little ditsy sometimes, but a cool guy nevertheless.

Then I got to Roxas's. He had spent a lot of time decorating the front of it. He had drawn a sword among other things on it. I don't know if that was supposed to symbolize something, or if he just liked Skyrim. Who knows? I read other people had written and most of it went like, "I don't really know you, but you have cool hair." So I wrote something I thought was appropriate:

"Rocksas, you don't like me, and that's okay, but don't be so sour. Also, do you style your hair that way or is it a cowlick? - Axel"

We weren't really supposed to sign it, but I couldn't help myself. He would probably be a big baby about it and tell one of the RNs. It was a joke.

The pamphlets went all the way around and I finally got mine back. I looked through all the ridiculously stupid shit people had written. A lot of "u have cool hair" "u r funny."Demyx's was nice:

"Axel, you are my best friend in this hellhole and I hope we can be friends outside of here. And some skittles. Rock on. – Demyx"

I was surprised he remembered that joke from my third day here. It's a quote I said from some movie when we saw Skittles in the vending machine on the way to the gym.

I read through them again and again, trying to find which one was Roxas's. I flipped it over and at the very bottom scrawled in very sloppy handwriting it said,

"Axel. You are a pretentious asshole, but also kind of endearing. Stop trying so hard. – Roxas"

I sat there silently for a minute, which was kind of out-of-character for me. I read it over again and I felt this anger build up inside of me.

Oh, I was livid.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Everyone was all smiles while I sat and stewed in my own rage. Who the hell does he think he is calling me a pretentious asshole? He is the pretentious asshole. He's the one walking around like he's better than God. I just like to have a good time. I'm not going to put up with this bullshit.

Everyone was released from the library and we were herded to our next activity. For the remainder of the day, I just brooded about my ego being smeared across the tiled floor like a dead bug. I tried to keep to myself, tried to keep it down. I didn't have to deal with his smug little face at dinner because he didn't have privileges to go to the dining room yet. You know, with real forks and knives?

I didn't even eat all of my dinner. I mean, I've gotten criticism my whole life. I'm used to some people hating me. But they're not_ him. _Someone like him doesn't have any right to think he's better than me. He's a pansy little faker. He's probably 13. Little kids aren't supposed to talk to adults like that.

We came back from dinner. We had to go to the gym and Demyx and I played volleyball. Well, more like hit the ball and chase.

"You okay, Paxil Axel?"

Demyx said with an added giggle. I chuckled at the reference to our earlier conversation about how I used to take Paxil and my sister called me Paxil Axel.

"Yeah, man. Just a little pissed about that pamphlet thing."

"Oh well. He's probably like Zexion. Zexion calls me an asshole all the time, but it's only because he's a kid. They don't have the maturity of men like us!"

I snorted at the insinuation that we were mature men and continued to hit the deflated volleyball.

It was finally free time. Finally my time to confront that little bastard. The closer I walked to our room, the more my rage consumed me. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I was going to chew his ass out, in the least homosexual way possible.

I arrived to our room and they had already put Roxas's name alongside mine on the door. It made me sick. I burst open the door and lo and behold, there was blondie. He was sitting on his bed with his sleeves off, hair plastered to his face. He had just gotten out of the shower I assume. I could see the wounds on his arms. There were several smaller ones that looked older and then fresh deep ones that weren't as frequent. There were hesitation marks around the large, stitched up ones going down his wrists toward his elbows. He must have been airing them out.

I hadn't realized how bad he harmed until now. I was still pissed. I wanted to tell him off. I wanted to tell him how he was irrelevant and how he was a faker, but after witnessing the severity of his wounds, I didn't know if I could do it.

He turned his head toward me, slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, I don't know if it was from the shower, or if he was crying. I didn't really care at that point. I was standing there, still staring at him.

"Can I help you… Axel?" He spoke softly.

I wanted to feel bad for him, but the way he said my name made me go fucking ballistic.

"Boy, you really went to a great length to make it look like you actually have problems, kiddo."

"… I came in on a stretcher."

"And then you said you just wanted to get the fuck out of here."

"I-" He started to say and I cut him off.

"If you were real, you'd want to recover."

"I do, it's ju-"

"Fuckin' faker."

He turned his head away from me for a moment before standing up and whipping around to face me. He stomped over to me and pointed a finger at me. He looked like an angry hedgehog and I couldn't help but audibly chuckle.

"Oh, okay. You're clearly the faker here. You're way too happy to be here. You're here to fuck up everyone else's recovery just so you can get a laugh and get out of school."

His tongue was poison. The words cascaded down in a waterfall of contempt. I stood there like an idiot while he began to walk away, unsure of what to say. Then it hit me. Oh, you thought I was angry earlier? I was beyond enraged.

What I did next was beyond my control. While Roxas was turned away, I darted over to the desk that his toiletries were still on, picked up a mostly empty shampoo bottle, and threw it at him. It wasn't a huge shampoo bottle, one of those little shitty ones that they give you your first day, but my aim is deadly and it hit him square on the shoulder.

He faltered briefly before saying quietly:

"Is that all you've got?"

I grabbed the toothbrush and chucked it in his direction in my fit of rage. Then the toothpaste, the comb, and the deodorant followed; each thrown harder than the last. They all hit him. I heard him lightly giggle.

"You don't fucking know me, bitch boy. You think I'm faking it? I'll show you how real I am!"

"Are you going to show me your true form and go Super Saiyan?" He said with a sarcastic tone in his voice turning to face me. His big blue orbs were interested for once.

"Don't fuck with me, you little shit. I'm serious, I will kill you."

"Wow, thanks for saving me the trouble."

I snatched up his ugly yellow folder that we were all given and hurled it as hard as I could. It hit his stomach and scattered papers all over the floor. He snickered at me like he enjoyed the abuse.

"You think this is funny?"

"Actually, I do. Thanks for the great show. You'll win an Oscar someday. Bravo. "

That was it. I was tired of his little blond, sarcastic ass. I clutched the heavy, kindergartener sized chair next to the desk. I was prepared to show him my wrath in full. Consumed by my fury, I picked up the chair. I was about to throw it at him, hoping to harm him in some way, anything just to get that smug fucking look off of his face.

He didn't look scared, he didn't cower in fear of me, and he just stood and stared at me. Stared at me like we were talking about the weather or last night's episode of American Idol. It really put a damper on my power high.

I stood there, chair in my hands, ready to throw. Then I remembered the last time I threw a chair. I had received solitary for 2 days. That was the shittiest experience of my life thus far. I contemplated whether it was worth it to get solitary just to get back at this babyfaced fuck. The chair was becoming increasingly heavier every second that I thought about it.

I set the chair down. I set the fucking chair down. He looked at me intrigued, looked at me unsure of what I would do next. The sigh escaped me before I could hinder it. I couldn't look at him; I just didn't know what to do with myself.

I started to pace. I'm sure he looked at me in an odd way, but my head was turned. The pacing continued for a good fifteen seconds. Running a hand through my hair, I turned to him. His face was turned up in an expression of curiosity. We had a stare-down for several seconds before throwing my hands up in frustration.

"What the fuck ever, just don't talk to me."

I stormed out of the room, still unsure of what to do with myself. I stomped into the lobby where mostly everyone else was. The little shits were seated around the table eating snacks and talking.

On my way over to join them I was stopped by an RN. She had that phony concerned look on her face, I'm almost positive she just wanted to go home.

"Are you alright, Axel?"

Rolling my eyes at her I responded sardonically:

"Yes. I'm just dandy. Don't you worry about me!"

"I'm serious, Axel. It was your goal today to tell us when you're feeling bad. You look upset. "

I could feel myself cooling off a bit, but this lady was stirring me up again.

"I always look upset, it's just my face."

The fake worry made her wrinkle her brow at me, but she just slowly walked away. Fucking finally. I made my way toward the gaggle of little shits. Demyx was sitting with them, so I put on the biggest grin I could muster and sat my ass down next to my friend.

"Hey, buddy. Where's your roomie?"

I hesitated a second before saying:

"Who the fuck cares? Let's play Apples to Apples."

He shrugged while I dreaded going back to that room.

My mood was lifted from owning some newbies at Apples to Apples. I took my cocktail of drugs from that little Dixie cup they give us and then readied myself for battle. I didn't know if I would survive this one, I fought gallantly in the battle of the blond. We had a couple of causalities, but we survived. I'm almost sure we lost, though. 

I didn't know if I was mentally prepared to face that little shit again, but I had no choice. The door was cracked and I could hear voices inside. One was soft; the other was attempting to sound soothing and comforting, but failing. Puzzled, I opened the door without knocking.

Roxas was getting your standard body-check. They had a large sheet draped around him while they looked over his arms and legs. I don't know what exactly they're looking for, and I didn't understand the protocol at all. There could easily be wounds on his stomach too, and if he knows you're not going to check there, he'll start doing it there. Psychologists don't think these things through.

The RN saw me come in and finished looking my young roomie over.

"You can put your clothes back on, hon'. When you've done that, come to the medicine counter so we can re-wrap your injuries."

"Mm."

The woman exited without acknowledging me. Roxas dropped the sheet and nonchalantly put his clothes back on. He was wearing underwear, but that shitty underwear the hospital gives you before your parents can bring you clothes. It was basically paper thin and I could see everything.

I soon realized I was staring at him. I quickly averted my eyes before he could feel my gaze upon him. Walking past him, I suddenly realized the bulge in my pants. I had been completely unaware up until this point; I could not let him see it. It was an obvious tent in my sweatpants and I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. I got random wood all the time, this was just one of the really inappropriate times it has happened. My grandma's funeral was the other time. Oops.

I made a bee-line to my clothes and toiletries and hauled ass to the bathroom. I prayed to Mayan Corn God that he didn't see. Pfft, I wasn't attracted to a little kid like him.

My cold shower was brief, they always are. The shower goes off every 5 minutes so you can't drown yourself or whatever. So, despite all of my fucking hair, my bathing only took a couple minutes.

Emerging from the shower I was met with a pair of big cerulean eyes from his bed. The bathrooms don't have a door and I guess I left the curtain open in my haste. He was seeing me in all my naked glory.

I wasn't embarrassed because he saw me naked; plenty of people have seen me naked. I was embarrassed because it was_ him. _He continued to stare at me. He didn't look necessarily excited or aroused, but he didn't look bored either. It made me uneasy.

I shot him a dangerous glance, but no cigar. He kept staring. I was going to say something, but he managed to utter before me:

"Well, looks like we're even now."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Stop staring at me, you fucking creep. "

He laughed a hearty laugh and for a second he looked happy. It lightly warmed my heart, but I immediately pushed that feeling aside.

"I saw you looking at me in that sad excuse for underwear. I'm not stupid."

He then promptly left the room to go to the medicine counter to get his injuries re-wrapped and when I noticed I was still standing there naked like an idiot. I slowly dressed myself in my standard hospital garb: sweatpants and t-shirt.

I plopped down on my bed, waiting for the Roxster to return. I was unsure of what was going to happen next. I turned on the TV to try to calm myself down and The Hour of Power was on, like always. I tried to make myself feel as un-awkward as possible. I tried to relax myself so I could sleep, but after all the commotion that happened today, I didn't know if I could.

I turned over to try and rest.

The light from the hallway blinded me as the nurse that takes blood at 5 in the morning came in. He wasn't taking my blood, I had mine taken already. Twice. I had the little certificate on the door to prove it. He was here to take blondie's blood.

I lay there, trying to go back to sleep on that damn uncomfortable bed. The person wheeled their little cart in and turned on the light to our room. I audibly hissed. I couldn't see the RN's face, but I'm sure it was hilarious.

He went over to Roxas's bed and gently shook the kid. I heard him let out a moan when the nurse softly spoke.

"Good Morning, Roxas. I have to take your blood and BP."

"Do you really have to? Why now?"

"Yes." He sighed. His voice was soft and sweet. He sounded genuine. "We have to take it before you've eaten. Now, do you want it on your left or right hand?"

"I don't care, it'll hurt either way."

I thought it was funny he was talking about it hurting, he self-harmed, you'd think he'd have a high pain tolerance. I knew when he stuck the needle in because I heard a tired whine. If I hadn't been so exhausted, it would have been amusing.

Once the nurse did his thing and turned the lights off with leaving I just kind of laid there listening to Roxas breathe until 8 o'clock. I don't know if he went back to sleep or not, I didn't bother to pay attention.

At about 8:03 some orderly moseyed on in. I immediately sat up and went to walk out of the room before the person even said anything.

"Good morning, Axel" She tried. "Did you sleep good?"

"It's well."

"That's great!"

"No, I mean you were supposed to use well instead of good. No wonder you're not a nurse."

She gave me an offended look before saying,

"Oh, well. Sorry."

I walked away before she could finish her sentence. I wasn't up for dealing with the stupidity of people today. I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I get rather angry and it's been building up since yesterday night.

I strolled into the lobby where everyone was gathering for breakfast. I saw a little crowd of younger teenagers together. I thought of how Roxas would probably soon flock to that group. I wrinkled my nose at them. They were beneath me.

I sat with the Demynator at the table while we waited for breakfast to be served at 8:15-ish. I didn't remember what I had ordered for breakfast that day. Demyx didn't either.

That time rolled around and all the fucks gathered around the table waiting for the orderlies to serve them. A pair of sassy little girls sat across from Demyx and I. I tried to contain the sigh, but could not.

Demyx received his plate before me and immediately got down to business.

"I hope this gravy is as tasty as it looks."

One of the girls across from me looked beyond insulted as she said:

"Um, you're not supposed to talk about food at meals."

I couldn't help myself.

"Oh my God, Demyx you are so insensitive. You're not supposed to talk about food at meals; you might offend one of the ED bitches."

"Oh ho, I am so sorry, Axel. I didn't know you weren't supposed to talk about food while eating it."

Demyx is feisty sometimes and that's why I love him. The girls were just about retort when they were distracted. I heard them faintly giggle and I turned my head.

Roxas had come out. Granted, he didn't look very lively, but he was here. His hair was droopy, but still in that obscene fashion. I guess that answered my question about the cowlick. He had bags under his eyes, looks like he didn't sleep too well.

I immediately became aware that the only seat available was next to me. I thought to myself _If I have to listen to this kid eat, I might strangle him. _He looked just as excited as I did about the whole ordeal. He parked himself next to me with a grunt.

We all started eating in silence. Usually one of the orderlies or RNs tries to start a conversation and fail, but not today. Across the table the girls were whispering to one another. I tried to read lips, but the only words I really picked up were "Roxas" and "gay."

That in and of itself pissed me off. I mean, what's wrong with being gay, why was it such a big deal to them whether the kid liked to puff peters or not? I was just about to say something to their little black asses when I was cut off by flying food coming my way.

I had no time to think or act before I was a gravy and egg causality. I was just a causality though; Roxas was the one who was killed by it.

He and I stood up in unison. I flung my arms out in dramatic fashion. I could feel the hatred and anger build up every fiber of my being. It would have been a little different if it was just me, but it was blondie too. I guess that makes me an inpatient vigilante. I knew what was going to happen, but I also knew I had no power to stop it.

I picked up my tray and threw it directly at her hoping to get her back. She was soon drenched in milk and cereal. She looked at me aghast and climbed over the table to engage in battle. My vision blurred and my heart raced as I grabbed her by the hair and cast her up against the wall. She clawed at my arms as I choked her.

Soon enough I felt the strong arms from the security and Rob Lowe Joe pull me away from this little girl. I was still in kill-mode, so I struggled against my holds. They fought to keep my restrained as they dragged me away from the lobby.

The last thing I saw before I was pulled away was Roxas's face. He didn't look bored.


End file.
